


take me by the tongue

by doubtthestars



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Footy Ficathon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 15:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3213449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubtthestars/pseuds/doubtthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jerome is driving Robert to distraction. Their teammates are starting to notice.</p><p>or 5 times Jerome uses google translate to woo Robert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take me by the tongue

Robert finds his favorite protein bar with a sticky note: dzień dobry(1). He is not the only one in the locker room but no one is particularly paying attention to him as he looks around for the culprit. It keeps a smile on his face for the rest of the day anyway.

"Did you see anybody by my things earlier?" He asks David after practice ends, knowing the younger man got in earlier to use the physio rooms. David crinkles his forehead like a puppy smelling a new shoe but shakes his head in the negative.

"No, I think Thomas is planning to prank Franck again, not you, if that's what you're asking for?" Robert keeps that tidbit for himself but doesn't respond right away. Perhaps it was one of the trainers or staff. He tried to think of any out of the ordinary interactions he had over the week, but nothing came to mind. 

"Ooh-kay, well, goodbye Robert!" David jogs ahead with a little wave, catching up with Holger who carpooled with him. 

Robert takes out the small gift and stares down the post-it as if it would give him an answer to his question. The handwriting wasn't familiar and he can't even think of any staff that knew his native language off the top of his head. He rips the note off and makes a mental note to ask Hans if any trainer knew Polish.

***

"Here," Jerome throws gloves in his face as they take a break from running around the field. Xabi is looking at the light snow-fall like it is a miracle. Robert puts them on without complaint but gave Jerome a questioning glance before grabbing a bottle of water.

Mario distracts him with another story of his brother and a terrible attempt at making dessert for his girlfriend over the holidays.

"It ends up making the oven smell like burning plastic. It's awful." Robert has his eyes trained on Jerome's back. The taller man isn't too far away from them in the pack of players but he is ahead of Rode. They had chatted a bit in the beginning of the session but he hadn't mentioned fetching his gloves from inside. He wasn't even sure when Jerome had left to get them. 

"--and then it started blinking at us from the cookie tray with several eyes." The Pole almost stops running, faltering for a second and getting a well-sculpted eyebrow raise from Mario. 

"Your cookies turned into Eldritch monsters?" The younger man purses his lips into an unamused expression.

"I was wondering if you were paying attention or just staring at Boa like you want to get out of the cold and get warmer together." Robert chokes and Rode's neck is slowly turning red in front of them.

"Mario, I swear I will do everything in my power to get the pictures from the Ruhr derby in 2012 from Kevin and give them to Thomas and Bastian." He hisses out. Mario squints and nods like he just confirmed something and waves off the threat with a snort.

"Please, like there's any evidence left. We made sure it stayed with everyone there, Lewy. Besides, you didn't deny anything. If you want my opinion, and I know you do because I'm your favorite on this team," Robert rubs a gloved hand on his face. He rued the day he met the young Goetze. 

"I say go for it. It's obvious you two need to get rid of that tension by..." Mario makes an obscene gesture with his fingers and laughs at Robert's sour face. 

"I will call Marco and make him tell me all your dirty little secrets." He rolls his eyes. The whistle is shrill in the air and they start going at a faster pace.

"Pfft, he loves me more than you. He wouldn't betray the code." Mario leaves him behind surprisingly fast to talk to Jerome ahead. Robert panics for a second before shaking the thought out of his head. Mario was an impulsive bastard but he wouldn't go that far, would he? 

The whistle blows again and Jerome slows down to meet his pace.

"Cześć,(2) Mario said you wanted to talk to me?" Jerome had a lazy smile on his face and Robert wasn't sure if he heard right. 

"Did you--" He stopped himself. It was completely crazy to think Jerome had just greeted him in Polish. Mario's stupidity must be catching. Robert needed better friends. He cleared his throat not sure what to say.

"Thanks, for the gloves I mean." Jerome shrugs but his smiles dims a little as he shoves his hands into his empty pockets. 

"You said it was cold right, figured you would need them." Robert tries to remember if he mentioned it but doesn't find an instance where he said anything of the sort except when they left the building. He had cursed the cold weather. It wasn't in German though.

***

They win the Bundesliga title and they have no time to celebrate until they win the Pokal also. There is a party at a dance club and Robert is not a dancer but he is a drinker and hasn't paid for anything yet.

His eyes are unfocused in the direction of the dance floor where Thomas and Ribery are having a silly dance competition. They look like flailing animals. Claudia and Philipp are dancing in a corner, and Robert cannot help but smile at their captain's utter devotion to his wife. 

He had scored two goals in the Pokal and he hoped to cement his future with Bayern next weekend and win another treble. Robert felt like they could do it. They had gotten through to the end and they knew their opponents. Pep had set a furious pace for them and they had stepped up to complete it.

Rafinha and Pizarro were the only ones left on the injured roster but Robert could feel it in his bones. They would win and he would try his damndest to find the back of the net.

Robert wanted to win. 

He blinks and Jerome appears like he usually does, slipping neatly into the booth with easy grace. Robert had never seen a tiger in the wild but he thought Jerome could give the predators a run for their money. 

The man cut a trim figure with a short sleeved shirt and dark jeans. 

"Hey, piękne oczy(3), need a refill?" Robert stares, biting back the first thought that comes to mind. He gestures instead with his free hand between them. The booth feels smaller with him in it, even though it is practically a room in itself, able to fit the rowdy bunch of bayern players spread out celebrating.

"Is this going to be a thing?" Jerome's holding back a smile. He can see it around the corners of his eyes and Robert thinks _oh god, Mario was right._

"Do you want it to be?" Robert is irrationally angry that he is using his language against him as a weapon of fucking seduction.

"Your accent is terrible." And it was working. He didn't curb his tongue, sharp with resentment. The other man still looked amused, maybe like he had just caught a bird in his paws. His thoughts devolve into nonsense because Robert could never think linearly after this much to drink. 

"Przykro mi, (4)" Jerome tries again. Robert leans in to correct him or slap his hand on his mouth.

"Shh-not tch. _Przykro._ " Jerome moves closer to hear the difference. He nods but doesn't repeat it. Robert is hot and he blinks off the haze setting in. He is about to grab him by the collar to shut him up, to make him stop butchering his mother tongue.

"How do you say I think--" He whispers before a loud 'Oh, sorry' interrupts them. It is Xabi and Robert wants to be annoyed, especially at the gleam in the Spaniard's eye, but cannot find the gumption to work himself up when he was so damn close.

"Bastian is looking for you, Jerome." He gets up with an apologetic touch to Robert's shoulder. 

Robert drops his head onto the table surface. He curses Xabi Alonso in every language he can think of.

***

Philipp lifts the Champions League Cup and Robert is tackled by his teammates. There is beer in his hair and pieces of confetti stuck to his skin. The crowd is roaring and exhilaration builds a home in his chest. He feels like he could simultaneously drop into a centuries' worth of sleep and go diving off a cliff, spreading wings along the way. 

"You made it happen." Jerome murmurs in his ear, getting too close, practically nuzzling him. He has an arm around him and Robert looks around but finds most of the media focus on Bastian, and Xabi is getting interviewed for winning his third title with a third club, looking youthful with his smile.

"I can't take all the credit. Arjen scored the winning goal. And we couldn't have done it without our defense." Neuer and Thomas found bottles of champagne and spray some of their younger teammates with glee.

"Hmmm, you equalized in the second half, gave us the boost, Bohater.(5)" Robert shivers with the rolled r so close to his neck. He pushes Jerome back before he does something stupid in front of everybody like jump the man.

They wouldn't be able to find any sort of peace or privacy until the celebrations ended.

***

+1

After everything, it is Robert that gets fed up with waiting for the right moment. 

"Zamknij się i pocałuj mnie."(6) Jerome stops dribbling to question the too fast for him to catch words that came from the polish man. 

"I didn't-what?" He kisses him full on the mouth and the taller man reciprocates with enthusiasm, not caring about their audience's reactions. 

"Oh gross." Mario whines as Franck wolf-whistles from across the pitch and Xabi pockets a bill from Alaba. Thomas is gaping like a fish and Pep averts his eyes while muttering to himself about his lot in taking care of a bunch of children. Bastian looks mildly impressed that they haven't come up for air.

Arjen and Philipp high-five on the sly.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. good morning 2. hi 3. pretty eyes 4. I'm sorry 5. Hero 6. Shut up and kiss me
> 
> Short little cracky tidbit. This small ship sails on. 
> 
> Leave a comment if you liked it.


End file.
